Hard Questions

As I sat in a care meeting with my care committee for the Commission on Ministry, one morning, in what feels like decades ago, they asked me the question, “What’s the most important thing you’ve learned from seminary so far?” I sat to ponder on the question and another member said “I know that may be a hard question, but it’s an important one”.  I replied, “I like the hard questions. They help me think and learn and grow.”  I can’t say I remember how I answered that particular question that day, but it satisfied their curious minds about my development in ministry.  I sit here 5 years post graduation, working as a dispatcher for a trucking company, and wondering how I find myself at the edge of being in ministry again.

My story is as complicated as it is simple. I first discovered my call to ministry at the age of 15.  A man named Tracy Carroll told me that he believed that he saw the light of God in me and that I should consider going into ministry. As I finished up my undergrad in Sociology, I applied to a few seminaries.  A mere week after I received my acceptance letter to Eden Theological Seminary, I found out I was pregnant with my first child.  Something as simple as a child wouldn’t stop me from figuring out how seminary would work, so I started seminary that February with some big naive eyes. 4 years and a total of 3 pregnancies later, I graduated with my M.Div. Later that year I filed for divorce and ministry was put on hold.

I could give you my sob story about how I wasn’t given the opportunities that I deserved.   While this is partially accurate, I was finding myself again after a divorce that was due in large part to me. I was told by the area minister that most churches around here wouldn’t like a divorced mom of three to preach to them. I did little to fight back on these issues and very little to fight for myself. I wasn’t interested in the hard question...the one that weighed on my mind no matter what I did, “Do you still want to do ministry, Brittany?”.

Time marched on and my kids grew. I changed positions in my job. I found opportunities to fill in occasionally at my local church and so my need to preach a word got quenched and I let my idea of being ordained one day slip away. My call became a distant whisper in the back of my mind.

In Summer 2017 lots of things happened that would change the course of my life, as summers often do. My mother’s best friend, a second mother to me, passed suddenly.  I ended an unhealthy relationship. And my kids went to Vacation Bible School. There, my mom, in all her loving pride, told another area pastor about my seminary education, my frustration with my denomination, and my lack of a church. From there, the Holy Spirit moved.

Another hard question, was I committed to sticking with my denomination? Truth be told,  the two main differences between these denomination have to do with baptism and communion, neither were issues that I was worried about the particulars too much to squabble on it. This hard question still weighs on my mind, as my denomination is important to me, but it won’t hold me back either.

The hard questions are often the most important questions we ask ourselves. Do those hard questions always receive clear and concise answers? No. Should we try to see what kind of answers we can find in the midst of wrestling with these questions? Absolutely.  As we enter the spring season where everything blooms new and different and exciting, I hope that we can all ask ourselves the hard questions in our lives. The hard questions are what get us the jobs we’ve always hoped for, the relationships we’ve been waiting our entire life for, and the children who follow their dreams.

Today I ask myself one more hard question. Was it all worth it? I can honestly answer that yes, every moment led me here to where I am supposed to be. So, ask yourself the hard questions, even when it hurts. The hard questions are the only worthwhile questions.

The trouble with the past.

I did it.  I finally did.  It took years and years.  It took many friends, many losses, much pain, but I did it. I wondered if this day would ever come, I fought and cried and felt like I was bleeding, but I did it. I’m happy.  I’m alone and I’m happy and I’m no longer living in the past. I’m living in the present, living for the day to day.

 Living in the past is something we all do from time to time.  We look around our lives and see the small bits of unhappiness and we decide to look back and remember the past instead. That’s something that is concrete, no matter how much it hurts.  It’s something that is unchangeable and familiar. Living in the past seems much safer than looking in the present and toward the future

The truth is, our past isn’t very glamorous.  It’s filled with heartaches and missed deadlines.  It’s filled with failure and lost friendships. It also is covered with the Amaro filter that Instagram has.  It makes everything a little hazy, but also brighter and more attractive.  It feels like it should be relived.

The problem with living in the past is that it causes you repeated heartache.  You long for people no longer in your life.  You stop looking toward the future and the goals that you once had.  You sit in a rut and wish things were the way they used to be.  It’s completely unhealthy and it’s completely addictive. We can bemoan how unfairly we were treated, we can think of how amazing that other person was, but the reality is, we are no longer that person.

However, when we look to the past, it may often help us move forward.  We can see the mistakes that we have made, the changes large and small we have made and the difference in our life now.  It helps us look to the future with clearer eyes. Sometimes, we can remind ourselves of the very real fears that we had about what the future we are currently living in would be. 

Living in the present is terrifying.  We are a brand new person every day, full of experience and life.  There is little certainty of what will happen minute to minute.  That makes it even more exciting and important.  The past? Well, we know exactly how it ends and it’s fun to imagine the might have beens. It feels like healing to wax poetic about how badly someone hurt us or how much we loved someone.

The lessons of our past truly have set up this wonderful future we find ourselves in today. I have often thought that my life was going to be forever changed by an event or decision before me.  The terror was real that I would make the wrong decision and  I wouldn’t be able to recover from it.  Now, I sit back and look at those decisions.  Sure, they were difficult, important, some even life changing, however, they are the reason I am here where I am today. 

We can look back at the past and realize that even on our darkest days, there were plenty of reasons to feel bright and passionate.  We might be wistful about certain aspects of the past, but we can appreciate how our present and our future is informed. Living in the past is always going to lead to heartache.  However, reflecting on the past to move into a new future, can lead to a great insight into what the future can bring us.

As I look to the future now, I can do so with a fresh heart.  I know that nothing that comes my way can destroy me.  The only enemy that can truly heart me, is myself. The past has taught me that nothing else can stand in my way.

My hope is that someday, you can live in the present, too.  The feeling is much lighter and hope filled than I could have imagined.  Maybe I will find love, maybe I won’t.  Maybe I will reach all my dreams and maybe I will fail miserably into a new reality of dreams I have.  Happiness must come from yourself and life is an every changing journey.  Just remember that the past isn’t where we are any longer and the present is full of potential.

My someone

When I think about the possibility that maybe my someone is out there, it both makes me smile and makes me want to cry. We all hope for a special someone.  That person who sees all the broken pieces and recognizes how special that makes you.  I've met some people who I had thought might be it, who I loved all their broken pieces, but I was wrong.  There is nothing wrong with being wrong though.  Loving people is important, and some of the most lovely times in my life have been with the people who couldn't love me quite enough.

You see? My someone, well, he has to be pretty brave.  I'm quite a lot, and I know now that I shouldn't have to hide it. My someone will not make me question if I am enough. This isn't to say my someone doesn't deserve the exact same treatment, they absolutely do.

Waiting for my someone is so difficult.  Some days, it feels lonely and sad.  I could find him tomorrow or ten years from now.  I often find myself missing someone, but I don't know who.  But a part of me is missing, and I'm longing for it.  I don't know who has or where this piece of me is. Some days I don't miss it at all.  But some nights at 2am, it whispers to me.

It has taken a long time to not try to fill that void with subpar company.  It looks like you are being rude, but it feels like honesty. Why beg for attention from anyone?  Why seek attention from someone you know isn't right?  Be true to yourself.

My someone is probably not looking for me, at least, not exactly.  I don't think anyone is every quite looking for me.  I hide behind so much bluster, you'd never know how often I cry.  You'd never know that all I want is someone who wants me as much as I want them.  You'd never know how insecure I truly am.

But why do I want to cry? Because what if my someone isn't out there? Or worse, what if I never find him?  I must remain hopeful, but the thought remains.  What if, what if I remain alone?

Those insecurities were given to me by weak men.  Men who didn't understand why I didn't shine the way they wanted. So, I dimmed my shine,  I hide my intensity, I became a monochromatic version of myself.  I shine in glitter and rainbows, intense and wonderful and important.  And my someone will know that.

Almost three years since my separation and divorce...here's what I know...

Life is funny.  To quote The Doctor: “The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant.” When I knew that I could no longer continue in my marriage, I was terrified.  We had three small children together, one of which was not even a month old.  I knew that it was going to be very rough for quite awhile, but I also knew that it was something that must be done.

I didn't respond correctly to the situations at hand.  I cried a lot, hid away from the world, and was generally unpleasant to be around.  I found salvation with friends who understood what I was going through and helped me find healthier ways of consoling myself.  You see, even when you are the person that wants the divorce, it is still extremely difficult emotionally.  I had my pile of bad things and I wanted to ignore my pile of good things, but thankfully that mentality didn't last forever.

Here's what I've learned, the good things often don't make themselves as known as the bad things.  I have searched off and on for a partner to share this life with.  So far, nothing has worked out for me and frankly, I'm okay with that.  It seems that living alone has had some good effects on me.  I seem to eat out less and also seem to be more motivated to clean and get out and do things with the kids.  The good thing here doesn't seem apparent does it?  I'm not stuck in a relationship that is not fruitful to my life and well being.  I am making it on my own.

I know for some, finding a partner can be very easy after they get out of a relationship or marriage.  Here's what I learned, hopping from one person to the next is just going to frustrate you and likely make you feel dejected.  Time is our friend.  Alone time with your thoughts is your friend.  Figuring out what you really want out of life is extremely rewarding.  It may seem like this person or that person is filling a void, but that may only be for awhile.  Look for someone who helps you heal your void.

I've learned mostly, that while at the time I thought my divorce was the end of the world, it has turned out to be a blessing.  I enjoy life so much more now.  And my kids now have a bonus mom, who loves and cares for them.  Maybe some day they will have a bonus dad, too.  Mostly, I'm just happy that I have the whole bed to myself (until 3am when Kellan climbs in).

On being perfect...

Riddle me this: a person has a bad experience and that person either receives sympathy or condemnation for the bad experience.  Two groups of people then duke it out to explain how ignorant the other is.  Nothing is accomplished except denigrating others for the sake of being right.  But what's the real issue here?  Well, what if we are wrong?  Then we wouldn't be perceived as perfect and as such might feel even worse.

I'm becoming increasingly disillusioned with social media and the need to rant and rave about every single thing going on in the world (world of course meaning United States and sometimes Canada or the UK, as I have a small social media interaction from other areas).  We complain our lives away.  This person isn't a good parent.  That parent is failing.  This group of people are idiots.  This group of people are racists.  While it is important to have public discourse on issues of safety and justice, it seems that a lot of what I see now is just hateful comments back and forth.

I do realize that I am now writing a blog about said complaining and ranting and raving.  This is more to come outside of all these debates and remind everyone of something profoundly simple.  WE ALL MAKE MISTAKES.  No one, not one single person is without fault.  We do the wrong things, say the wrong things, we get offended over things that are often ridiculous.  We are humans.  The most important thing we can gain from social media is learning how to accept each other despite our mistakes.

This is not a call to allow people to be treated poorly for the sake of keeping things calm.  This is not a call to stop all complaining on Facebook or Twitter or whatever app you're using.  This is not a call to ask people to step down from the great justice work that they are doing.  This is a call for rationality.

We are not perfect.  People are going to say and do the wrong things. A lot.  People are going to disagree over politics, religion, and child rearing.  A lot.  People are going to fight for their rights and seek justice in this world.  A lot.  We must find a way to interact that is less toxic to ourselves and to others.

I found myself today on several occasions reading a status or a post and internalizing feelings because of them.  The posts were most certainly not about me, but I felt I could relate to the person that the post was complaining about.  I wonder how many times I have hurt someone without realizing it, just for my stance on an issue or the way I presented the people on the other side of a debate.

We must do better.  We must work harder to think before we type.  I say we, because I know that I'm guilty of this, too.  Now, go outside and do something kind.  Lift your spirit.  Walk away from the keyboard and let something go that might otherwise make you so angry you could barely see.  Just once, do that for me and think about how that feels.  I hope it feels good.

My muchness

I've been burdened with my muchness for as long as I can remember.  NO NO NO NO! Stop yourself right now, you are wanting to say.  Never be burdened by your muchness! It is what makes you, you.  I know this and it is a burden nonetheless.  And on the converse side, this is not to say that other people are somehow less intense or passionate or important as me.

I can distinctly remember high school.  How I was often too much and never enough.  I was so intense and in your face with my beliefs and moral and interests. I was not enough with my lack of interest in drinking and dating and other shallow interests (at least I thought so at the time). I was never the right something.  My muchness always consumed me.

My muchness has transformed over time.  My passions have changed.  My intense need to be me has transformed.  Here's what I've found, my muchness is a burden and a blessing. My muchness, oh my muchness, how it makes everything so much more intense.

People are initially attracted to muchness.  They see your passion.  They see your intensity and they want a part of that. So enticing, I'd imagine. When you are looking in, it seem so wonderful.  It's not.  It's scary as hell.  It's in your face.

I often joke with friends that people stick around for less than two weeks. That's all the more it takes for most people to be "over it". I no longer mind much anymore.  Everyone says they are "different", that they'd never be sick of me, but few are right, and that's okay.  My muchness states that I can't be held back by the feelings of others.

My muchness is a blessing for those who stick, truly stick.  Not the ones who hang on by a thread to bask in my energy.  That's unfair to me.  It wastes my time, and energy and frankly, it wastes theirs too, to be partially consumed with each other, but nothing that matters too much.  While I don't think it's always intentional, it usually ends up hurting.

M muchness will fill your heart with love, your body with energy and leave your face with a smile.  I'll remember the little things.  Celebrate small victories with you.  I will have your back no matter what, to the moon and back.

Yes.  I will be intense.  I will take up your time.  I will laugh.  I will be silly.  I will cry.  I will text you at 3am when I can't sleep.  I will remember things you didn't think I could possibly remember.

My muchness isn't for everyone, I realize that now. It is a blessing for those who can handle it and occasionally a curse for me.  I will always attract people with the brightness of my flame. And I will scare those same people off with the heat of my fire.

Dearest Mom,

Dearest Mom,

Today on Mother's Day, I thought long and hard about how I could best honor you.  No gift is enough, no card quite right.  SO, I thought, maybe writing you something might be a more appropriate gift.

From a mom, to my mom, on Mother's Day, as I reflect on my childhood until now, first and foremost, Id like to say, I'm sorry!  I know you're probably thinking that there's no apology needed, but I declare it warranted.  You see, I know now, being a mom is no joke.  It's 24/7 worry/nerves/regret/happiness/love and it is INTENSE! You couldn't have possibly warned me.  But you showed me how to be a mom from the time I can remember.

My best memories from grade school and high school are the ways that you made me feel special and important.  I remember in high school when someone broke up with me and you sent me flowers to cheer me up.  I remember you sending me flowers on Valentines and remembering which soda and candy I preferred.  You bought brand specific mac and cheese because you knew I preferred it. You often were my most ardent cheerleader, while giving me space to make my own decisions.

You've always supported my hopes and dreams.  No matter how small (trying out for a competitive cheer squad, making it, and subsequently quitting) or big (shooting for the stars and ending up at seminary).  You came to every basketball game that you could.  You supported my multiple after school activities, even going from one to the next.  I'm not sure you had time to even think sometimes, and there was only one of me.

Let's be honest, I've fallen on my ass, a lot.  You've never made me feel less than for those mistakes.  You've always supported me through the tough times.  I wouldn't be where I am today without your undying support.  I hope to use that as a guide with my own kids, though you are already their biggest fan as well.

I could never put into words the amazing things you've done for me. Those seen and unseen.  I hope to be half the mother you have been to my own children. I love you until the number end plus one.

Happy Mother's Day.